


The Storge Effect

by dreamtowns



Series: What to Do When an Astral Drops You in a Parallel World [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Parallel Universe, Soulmate AU, dad fic, family themes, this aint really a ‘traditional’ soulmate au bc im putting my own twist on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-12-27 02:11:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtowns/pseuds/dreamtowns
Summary: Prompto stared, and stared, and stared. Gentiana only smiled. “Let me clarify some things,” he started. “I’m a favorite of the, um, the Six?”“Our Most Beloved,” Gentiana repeated.“Right,” said Prompto. “And because you knew I’d be lonely and, and depressed after Noct brought the sun back, you – brought me to a parallel universe??”“Yes,” said Gentiana, ever patient.Prompto needed a drink. Or twelve.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Final Fantasy XV. All rights reserved to its developers: Square Enix. All that is mine is the plot of this story in particular and any original characters introduced. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made from this work. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know your thoughts!

 

 **storge**  
natural or instinctual affection, such as the love of a parent towards a child and vice versa.

 

* * *

 

Three important events transpired when he turned thirty-one. First, Noctis had saved the world and brought back the dawn but, in doing so, had sacrificed his life. Second, Prompto buried not only Noctis, but Gladio and Ignis, who had followed Noctis to the afterlife as their battle against the last dredges of daemons dwindled. Third, two days after the funeral and Cindy and Iris’s well-meaning “intervention”, Prompto woke from his midday nap to discover Pryna and Umbra fast asleep on his bed.

He blinked.

“Our Most Beloved.”

Prompto shrieked as he turned and saw Gentiana standing by his bed, lips stretched in that ever-pleasant and benign smile. There’s something soft and warm in her gaze, now, as she stared at Prompto. He swallowed. Normally, such a look was reserved for Lady Lunafreya. Not a defective MT from the country that murdered her slumbering body in Ghorovas Rift.   

“Um.” Prompto started. “G-Gentiana? Uh. _Shiva_. Um.”

If possible, her smile softened.

Pryna started to wake. She yawned and stretched lazily, blinking wide eyes at the rest of the room before they settled on Prompto; then, her tail wagged energetically and she all-but leaped into Prompto’s arms. She yipped and barked, smothering his face in kisses, and Prompto laughed, a breathless and light sound that floated in his coldly silent room.

“Down girl, down,” he said, sitting upright so she wouldn’t end up smothering him. Small dog or not, Pryna possessed a strength most canines didn’t.

Then again, she _was_ a Messenger.

Umbra, roused from the greeting, soon appeared at his side; though he was much more patient than Pryna, he still greeted Prompto with gusto. Once the greeting and cuddling session dwindled, Prompto remembered the other sudden guest in his room and looked at Gentiana. She observed them with that kind, indulgent smile on her lips.

“So,” said Prompto, slowly. “Is everything alright?”

“That depends,” said Gentiana.

“On?”

“On you, Most Beloved,” Gentiana said.

“Is the starscourge back?” Prompto questioned, more alert than he’d been in a while; something dark pulled at the center of his check and Pryna whined at his distress. The last thing Prompto wanted was to relive another decade of darkness.

“No, Most Beloved,” Gentiana assured. “The Blight has been eradicated thanks to the King of Kings sacrifice.”

Prompto ignored the shattered glass feeling in his lungs in favor of knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Why do you keep calling me ‘most beloved’?”

“Out of all of humanity,” Gentiana started, “you are the Most Favorite of the Six. Therefore, you are Our Most Beloved.”

Pryna licked his cheek. Umbra huffed and snuggled closer against his side. Prompto decided to shelve the concept Gentiana had just introduced for a later time.

“Right,” said Prompto.

His heart stuttered in his chest when he heard a series of muffled honks. He leapt out of his bed, rushing to the window, and almost went into cardiac arrest at the sight of what could only be morning traffic on one of Insomnia’s main roads. Which was impossible, of course. Improbable. Although most of the city had been untouched by Niflheim, the uncontrollable spawning of daemons during the Long Night had left Insomnia inhabitable, a suicide zone, and all-but destroyed. It would take _years_ for Insomnia to go back to the sprawling beauty it once was before the Fall.

And yet, here it was. Right outside his window.

He turned on his heel and breathed through a gaping hole in his chest. The room he woke in didn’t once belong to Cid. There was no unmistakable scent of oil and dust and sweat and the foods Takka cooked at his diner. The sounds of hunters discussing battle plans and patrol brackets were gone as was Cindy’s familiar lilt as she improved cars and weapons.

No, the room he woke in was bathed in warm brown, blue, and silver colors. There was the bed, obviously, along with a bedside dresser; against the wall by the window stood a bookshelf with an impressive number of books nearly spilling off its’ shelves, and there was a dresser and closet. There were two doors, one that led out of the room and one that could only lead to a bathroom.

“What the fuck,” said Prompto. “Where am I? Where – ? What – ?”

Before he could spiral further, Gentiana spoke. “The Six and I have ordained that Our Most Beloved is discontented with the way his life had gone. Therefore, We have discussed that it would benefit Our Most Beloved to now live and thrive in a World that is like his own but isn’t.”

Prompto stared, and stared, and stared.

Gentiana only smiled.

“Let me clarify some things,” he started. “I’m a favorite of the, um, the Six?”

“Our Most Beloved,” Gentiana repeated.

“Right,” said Prompto. “And because you knew I’d be lonely and, and depressed after Noct brought the sun back, you – brought me to a parallel universe??”

 “Yes,” said Gentiana, ever patient.

Prompto needed a drink. Or twelve.

“Right,” said Prompto. “ _Right_. Um. Anything else I should know?”

“This world is like your previous domain, yet not,” Gentiana explained, and Prompto listened despite feeling like his world crumbled around him. “The Blight does not exist in this world. Neither does Niflheim possess a cruel reign against Eos.”

Prompto curled his fingers through Pryna’s and Umbra’s fur and breathed. “Alright, then. Anything else?”

Gentiana’s smile grew. “Yes.”

Prompto opened his mouth to ask, but Gentiana moved forward before he could speak and pressed a gentle, almost motherly, kiss against the center of his forehead. Before the surrealness of a literal Goddess kissing his head could crash down around his ears, Prompto’s breath caught in his throat as a searing headache threatened to slice his head in two. He could only whimper and close his eyes.

“I apologize,” Gentiana murmured, carding her ice-cold hands through his hair. “This was the least painful way to transfer the memories and knowledge Our Most Beloved needs to live comfortably in this world.”

A quiet noise curled in the back of Prompto’s throat. Pryna and Umbra whined in sync, curling around him protectively. He gritted his teeth at the splintering pain, having gone through much, much worse before, and focused on grounding himself. Five minutes of the discomfort felt like half a decade, but Prompto’s mind cleared and he gained respite. He breathed and slumped against the bed, a slight migraine as his mind adjusted to the new memories and information he had gained.

“Rest well, Most Beloved,” said Gentiana; almost as quiet as the gentlest wind. “You have earned your peace.”

Prompto’s conscience faded, and he soon slumbered; watched protectively by an Astral and two Messengers.

 

* * *

 

 

Prompto stared.

Pryna and Umbra stared back.

He sighed. “So, I take it that wasn’t a sleep-deprived hallucination, huh?”

Pryna barked.

Prompto pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Okay. You’re in a parallel world now, and everything’s different.”

He swallowed around a dry tongue. His stomach gurgled, disrupting his jumbled thoughts, and it dawned on Prompto that he couldn’t really remember the last time he’d eaten. With a sigh, he slipped out of his bed and walked out of his bedroom. He hoped there was food in the fridge or cupboards. He didn’t think he could stomach civilization today. Pryna and Umbra followed him quietly, brushing against his legs as he walked.

His first thought upon leaving his bedroom was that he lived in an apartment. The furniture and walls were also bathed in warm green, blue, and silver accents. From what he could tell, besides a decently sized living room and kitchen, Prompto only had one bathroom and bedroom; and, of course, thankfully, a little laundry room tucked into a corner.

In the living room, there was another bookshelf and a desk against the wall. The desk had stacks of books on it, a small laptop, and well-worn headphones perched atop the computer. The windowsill had a small garden, and there was a houseplant in most corners of the apartment. As Prompto walked to the kitchen, his fingers trailed against the afghan draped over the back of the couch.

“Soft,” he murmured.

There were various papers and sticky notes littering the coffee table, and a mug of unfinished tea sat atop a light blue coaster.

Inside the kitchen, Prompto spotted food and water bowls for Pryna and Umbra in the corner. A small table with two chairs were snug against the wall. His stomach grumbled once more, and Prompto rummaged through his fridge and cupboards for something to eat. Thankfully, he had a fully stocked kitchen, and made a quick breakfast of eggs and toast.

As he ate, his mind drifted to the abundance of new information he slowly processed. Currently, he worked as a freelance photographer and he had a few contracts with firms that took confidentiality and security of both their customers and employees seriously (one of them, he discovered, was Vyv), and it was enough of a paycheck in that he could pay his bills, buy groceries, and have a savings account. And still have money left over to splurge.

Prompto also liked to sell his paintings and photos to various art galas in Insomnia and Altissia. And he kind of had a name for himself, as well. Which. He would think about that later. Much like the whole “Most Beloved” thing the Astrals had going for him.

While daemons no longer roamed, there were people of supernatural descent. Which, in Prompto’s – original world, was a thing thought to be fairytales and a good plot for a story. Not, you know, _real_. And yet there were werewolves, and vampires, and Fae, and all sorts of supernatural people who roamed and lived and breathed throughout Eos.

 _Well,_ he thought to himself, _that’s why it’s called “parallel”, I guess._

The Lucis Caelum’s still ruled Lucis, all of it seeing as Niflheim’s power crumbled with a vicious rebellion and overthrown government a good four years ago. Accordo was still a hub of artistry and refinement; Tenebrae was free and thriving under Queen Sylva’s gentle and stern hand, and Galahd remained a part of Lucis and bloomed without the threat of Niflheim as well.

Insomnia had no wall. There was no prophecy, no Chosen King. Ardyn was, most likely, a normal man.

Prompto breathed a little easier, knowing that there was no imminent sacrifice at the end of the light for the people he loved more than life itself.

“Well,” Prompto said to no one. “Guess I should shower, huh?”

 

* * *

 

 

“What,” Prompto said to his reflection. _“WHAT.”_

Then, he groaned and placed his head in his hands.

Only he would go to bed a thirty-one-year-old man and wake up looking like he was barely a day older than twelve.

He sighed. “What the fuck.”

He wasn’t drunk enough to deal with this.

 

* * *

 

 

After a good amount of breakdowns in the comfort of his shower, Prompto curled up on his couch with Pryna and Umbra and turned the TV on. It was _Insomnia 24_ , the local news channel for the capital city, and Prompto listened to the anchorwomen and men report the weather and updates on world news. His phone, charged, was snug in his hands. Prompto wasn’t sure if he was in the right mental state to unlock his phone and confirm the fears in the back of his mind. He knew he did not have the same contacts as he did in his original world, and grief threatened to drown him as he thought about not having Noctis’s phone number.

 _Peace, huh?_ Prompto thought as the anchorwoman discussed a series of taxes Accordo started to place on imports from other regions and the concerns it caused from the public. _This is turning out to be the exact OPPOSITE._

Pryna snuffled in her sleep, and Prompto scratched her ear gently.

“So,” Prompto said, possibly to Umbra, “I’m, like, a baby, now. Which. Okay. Why not?” a hysterical laugh threatened to fall off his lips. Umbra placed his paw on Prompto’s knee for comfort. “Thanks, bud. This is just…a lot to take in, you know?”

His eyes drifted to the items on his coffee table, one of which contained a wallet. After he opened it, he took note of the debit card, the neatly folded bills, and the four receipts jammed in one of the pockets. He eyed the blue colored bills, noting that the world operated under the gil system as he didn’t see a hint of crowns in his possession.

The anchorwoman started discussing the concerning rise of underage workers working full-time, and Prompto switched the channel to a cooking station.

He sighed. “What a mess.”

Then, his phone buzzed, and he shrieked from surprise.

He looked at the caller ID and was faintly surprised to see that it was Aranea calling him. Stumbling, he answered the phone, not wanting her to think something was amiss if he missed it. “Uh. Hello?”

 _“How’s it going, shortcake?”_ Aranea questioned; from her end, Prompto heard the hustle and bustle of what could only be a farmer’s market. In the distance, he heard Biggs and Wedge arguing over the price of fresh fruit. _“How’s that foster family treating you?”_

Prompto almost asked _what foster family_ before the knowledge floated to his mind. Aranea and the others that he knew were under the impression that when Prompto started to live in Insomnia, he did so with a foster family that was kind, but nonetheless distant. They were aware of his job, but believed he worked only a few hours a week and attended school. The foster family, in their minds, were supportive of his work as they “wanted him to gain experience in a safe environment before college.”

There was no foster family.

Prompto attended school online, having graduated high school very, very early, and was halfway through his bachelor’s degree. In what, he wasn’t sure. He worked full-time, and often found himself piled with projects and once didn’t sleep for a week.

 _“Shortcake?”_ Aranea’s voice pulled him out of his reverie. _“Talk to me. Did something happen?”_

“No, everything’s fine,” he said quickly, and knew that he caused suspicious and concern to rise in Aranea at her quiet hum. “It’s just – I’m watching Food Network, so I was a bit distracted.”

_“Oh? Thinking of testing out your baking skills?”_

“A bit,” Prompto admitted.

Aranea chuckled, and it was the most familiar sound Prompto had heard since he woke. _“Well, you always were our little chef back home. Anyway, I just wanted to check up on you.”_ Her voice was warm and sisterly, but Prompto didn’t dare sniffle. _“Take care, alright? I’ll be sending another care package your way in a few days, so keep an eye out.”_

“I will!”

_“Are your foster parents’ home?”_

Something cold slithered in Prompto’s veins. “No, why?”

 _“I’m just curious about them,”_ Aranea replied blithely, but Prompto hadn’t spent ten years in perpetual darkness around her to not be able to detect the slightest shift in her voice and emotions. _“You’ve lived with them for, what? Almost a year now, I think, and I haven’t talked to them or seen them this entire time. Just, you know,”_ her voice sharpened with concern, _“it’s a little worrying to us. Are you_ sure _you’re doing okay?”_

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Prompto said. He resisted the urge to swallow, knowing Aranea would be able to hear it and make assumptions.

She hummed. _“If you say so.”_ In the distance, Wedge bellowed something, and Aranea huffed. _“I gotta go now, shortcake. Talk to you later, okay? Remind your foster parents that I wanna be in contact with them, ok?”_ Her tone shifted to amused when she added, _“I don’t think Insomnia’s ready for me just yet.”_

“Okay,” said Prompto, and when he heard the tell-tale click of an ended call, breathed a shaky breath. He looked at Pryna, who blinked slowly at him. “I’m fucked.”

Pryna licked his chin in comfort.

After an hour or so of _Iron Chef: Insomnia v Duscae_ , Umbra nudged Prompto in the direction of the kitchen, and he realized, with something akin to terrified panic, that he had forgotten to feed them. “Shit,” he breathed out, “I’m so sorry.”

He refilled their water and food bowls and smiled softly as they both descended onto them with fervor. Then, he noticed the lightness of the food bag and swallowed. It was empty. On the fridge, he then noticed the small whiteboard and the note _BUY DOG FOOD & TOYS _scrawled over it in blocked print.

“Looks like I _am_ entering civilization,” he sighed.

Pryna and Umbra continued to eat.

Double-checking that he looked presentable enough for the grocery store, Prompto grabbed his phone, house keys, and wallet.

“I’ll be back,” he told them, and they both nodded. Right. Sometimes, Prompto forgot that they weren’t, well, actual dogs.

Thankfully, Shiva planted Prompto in a familiar part of town, just a few blocks away from Noctis’s apartment – which he didn’t dwell on, because he didn’t want to suddenly burst into tears at the crosswalk – and set onto the path of the grocery store. As he walked, he took quiet note that some people had wings, or horns, or scales, or, well, just didn’t really look – human.

He kept his head down, like he always did, and soon crossed the threshold that belonged to a local grocer he frequented. The pet aisle was easy to find, and the food he gave Pryna and Umbra were located easily enough; the bright orange bag was quite distinctive. Then, after a few quiet minutes of consideration, he picked a few toys to purchase as well.

He wandered around the store, curious if any brands had been altered in this world and found the cereal aisle. He entered the aisle, just to browse as he already got the dog food and toys he wanted and looked at the sales curiously. Then, he looked up and locked eyes with a beaming Iris Amicitia. Gladio stood beside her, looking at him, his eyes dark and wide; shocked, as if he didn’t quite think Prompto existed.

“OMG,” Iris squealed, bouncing in one place. “OMG, it’s _you!”_

Something like hope and grief splintered the center of his chest at the sight of them. Did they remember him? Did they know who he was? Prompto tried to breathe, but it was difficult. Two days ago, he buried Gladio next to Ignis. Two days ago, Iris refused to let him drink himself under the table and, instead, they drowned themselves in tea Cindy made from her mother’s teapot and reminisced the memories they shared and didn’t share about the deceased.

Two days ago, Iris was twenty-six.

(two days ago, _he_ was thirty-one.)

Iris all-but launched herself at him, and Prompto was too shocked at the sight of Iris being _fifteen_ again to move, and soon her arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a tight, but warm, embrace.

“OMG, you’re so small,” she gushed. “Ooh, you smell like peaches!”

“What,” said Prompto.

“Iris, let the kid go.” Gladio sighed; a heavy sound that was so familiar Prompto would’ve started crying right there and then. In the middle of the damn cereal aisle. “You’re scaring him.”

Begrudgingly, Iris pulled back, but a bright smile soon lifted her scowl as she looked down at him. “I’m sorry, this is just so exciting,” she continued. Peculiarly, her nostrils flared. “Normally, I’m never around for these things, and it hasn’t happened to me until, well, now, but to meet one of our familial soulmates for the first time is just – _amazing!_ And in the grocery store, too! _”_

“What,” Prompto said, again, and then his mind processed her words.

 

* * *

 

 

Ah.

Prompto forgot about the soulmate thing.

 

* * *

 

Despite his best efforts, Prompto ended up in between Gladio and Iris as Jared drove them to their home. Manor, really. The Amicitia family were still the sworn Shields of the royal family and their house displayed their vast wealth and status. Prompto had never physically been there before, but he had seen pictures.

As they reached the grounds, Iris excitedly explained the architecture and gardens that surrounded the place. Prompto listened attentively, fascinated as always with, well, just about anything, and tried not to think too hard on the way Gladio looked at them with fondness pooling in his eyes. Prompto also tried not to think too hard as to why he found himself in such a position, but that, too, was difficult.

There were three types of soulmates in this world. Romantic soulmates who, as the name suggests, are romantic partners who typically engage in a relationship with each other; platonic soulmates who are the best of friends; and familial soulmates – which is just a fancy way of saying “found family”.

Not everyone had a soulmate – well, not every _human_ , that is. The supernatural worked differently, and, apparently, the only way to know if one’s your soulmate was due to their scent.  

A migraine started forming.

Gods, Prompto had the sudden, inexplicable feeling his life was starting to become the butt of some cosmic joke.

According to Iris, Prompto was her and Gladio’s familial soulmate. Which meant that he was, technically, an Amicitia now, and Prompto really didn’t want to touch those implications with a fifty-foot pole. Not now, not _ever_.

Too soon, Jared pulled into the front of the house, and Iris tugged Prompto out of the car with all the exuberant enthusiasm of a fifteen-year-old he remembered her to be. His heart tugged, painfully, but he swallowed his emotions down for a later date. From what he knew, the supernatural could scent emotions as one’s scent could, apparently, change depending on their emotional state.

(prompto really, really wanted that drink now.)

“Come on,” Iris was saying. “Daddy’s gonna love you!”

Gladio snorted, quietly.

Prompto blinked. “What?”

Iris only smiled and continued guiding him up the steps to their front door. Once inside, Prompto almost went into cardiac arrest for the third time at the sight of the grandiose furniture and décor. He was terrified to _breathe_.

“They’re in the sitting room,” Gladio said, nodding his head in the direction where murmured voices floated from, and Iris nearly squealed Prompto’s ear off.

“Let’s go, let’s go!”

Having no physical strength to stop her (and, also, Prompto could never tell Iris no), Prompto could only allow himself to be dragged behind Iris as she pulled him through the maze-like hallways of the Amicitia manor. Gladio followed behind at a sedate pace, and Prompto would bet his entire savings that the other man was completely amused at this entire situation.

“Daddy, guess what?” Iris burst out as she entered the sitting room, and brandished Prompto as though he were some prize, she won at the county fair. “Gladdy and I found our familial soulmate at the store!”

“How wonderful,” smiled Regis Lucis Caelum the fucking CXIII  _KING OF LUCIS—_

“Welcome to the family, kiddo,” said Clarus Amicitia. Gods, he looked so much like Gladio did in Prompto’s original life that he was literally about to start hyperventilating. Because what. _WHAT_.

A growl floated in the air, and heads swiveled to where Cor _fucking_ Leonis stood; the book in his lap fluttered to the ground with a poignant noise. His eyes, normally a light color, were legit swirls of black and Prompto barely had the time to breathe let alone think when Cor spoke in a gravelly voice that echoed throughout the manor.

 _“Mine,”_ Cor growled _. “My son.”_

“What,” said Prompto, right before his legs buckled underneath him and he passed right the fuck out in front of the most powerful people in the Lucian government.

Somewhere, the Astrals were laughing at this entire predicament. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Final Fantasy XV. All rights reserved to its developers: Square Enix. All that is mine is the plot of this story in particular and any original characters introduced. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made from this work. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Prompto escaped Amicitia Manor by the skin of his teeth. He explained that he had homework – a group project for his microeconomics class, and he had to rewrite his notes for his sociobiology midterm – and somehow managed to convince them that yes, he was a sophomore in college and yes, he was of age – just a really, _really_ short and baby-faced nineteen-year-old.

Prompto, in the back of his mind, realized that it was going to blow up spectacularly in his face at some point, but he was simply too relieved to be back in his miniscule apartment to care.

Umbra gave him a pointed look from where he lay on the couch, and Prompto recognized it as something scolding and pouted. “I panicked, okay?”

Umbra huffed.

“They didn’t believe me anyway,” Prompto replied, and it was true. They gave him the benefit of the doubt, of course, but the looks King Regis, Clarus, and Cor shared when Prompto stammered out a random age under pressure was – telling. “Let’s hope they don’t investigate,” Prompto added after he sighed.

Umbra and Pryna both gave him a look.

(either these Messengers were quite expressive for canines or Prompto was finally losing the smallest shred of sanity he had left).

“Who am I kidding?” Prompto slumped and placed his head in his hands. “They’re going to investigate!”

Pryna pressed her nose against his knee, to give him comfort, and Prompto petted her slowly and sniffled. His phone buzzed on the coffee table, but Prompto wasn’t in the mood to converse with other people. Umbra, however, huffed at the phone and gave him an imploring look.

Prompto, in the back of his mind, wondered if it would be blasphemy if he gave the Messengers to the Gods to a loving, no-kill shelter.

His phone fell silent for a pause before another round of rings picked up, and Prompto sighed. He reached for the phone and then blinked in surprise at the mass notifications from King’s Knight. They were from his DMs, from a user called **fishprince**.

Prompto knew that handle. He’s played with that handle since he was fifteen.

He sighed onto the game with trembling fingers, but thankfully his password and username (a nostalgic **chocochocobo** because **chocobos** was taken when he’d first registered) were the same in his previous life, and there were no other problems logging into the app.

The familiar cutscene greeting of King’s Knight played, and Prompto pretended he wasn’t crying. During the Long Knight, power was precious. People couldn’t really waste their phone battery on game apps unless they lived in Lestallum. Prompto only went there a few times; he mostly hunkered down in Hammerhead because he was needed there the most.

He breathed. His lungs splintered in his chest.

Pryna licked his elbow, and he smiled.

“Thanks, Tiny,” he murmured right as a pop-up notif for a DM flickered on his screen.

 **King’s Knight User** fishprince **has messaged you.**

fishprince: _hey can we grind in the_ [CLICK TO READ THE FULL MESSAGE]

Prompto, after he exhaled, pressed on the message. The longest friend he’s had in King’s Knight is asking if they could grind on the seventh floor. Prompto agrees, and then spends the next couple of hours grinding and chatting. He gets hungry at some point, as the afternoon sun lowers beneath the high-rise of Insomnia’s skyline, and Prompto would’ve continued playing, but Pryna whined and Umbra tugged on his pants’ sleeve.

“Okay, okay, I get it. No skipping meals.”

To his party member, he texts _sorry, gotta eat!_

_It’s not prob. Play again later?_

_You bet!_

As Prompto’s thumb hovered over the button that would log him out of the game, he hesitated and wondered how weird and alarming it would be if he asked if “fishprince” were Noctis, if he remembered Prompto from his other life. After a minute of debate, though, Prompto ignored the impulse and logged out of King’s Knight.

He made himself a quick dinner, gave Pryna and Umbra their food as well, and sat at his little dining table of one. As he ate, his mind wandered to the events that eclipsed his entire day.

 

* * *

 

 

_“What,” said Prompto, again, for the better half of the hour. He should’ve gotten the dog food and toys tomorrow. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t be on a couch in the Amicitia manor, squished between Cor and Iris, as Clarus and King Regis patiently explained what the ever-loving fuck was going on. “Sorry, I’m – what?”_

_“Which part confused you, Prompto?” King Regis smiled. “I admit, there are few humans employed in the Citadel, so some of our explanations are probably incomplete to you.”_

_Prompto wasn’t sure if he wanted a drink or if he wanted to cry. He chose to do neither. He was, like, ninety percent positive he would send Cor into cardiac arrest if he did either of those options, and he really didn’t want to be known as the one that finally managed to kill Cor the Immortal. “Okay, um, for G-Gladio and Iris, I’m – like their sibling?” At their nods, Prompto continued: “And – and, um, for M-Mr. Leonis, it’s like I’m his . . . child?”_

_“Correct,” said King Regis._

_“Call me Cor,” said Cor and then, after a beat, “Please.”_

_His need to cry outweighed his need for a drink._

_“Okay.” Prompto took in a steadying breath. His voice, regardless, cracked. “And the Amicitia’s are – werewolves, and Cor and the, um, royal family are . . . dragons?”_

_“Correct again,” King Regis replied. He clapped lightly, smile bright and warm. “Cor is not only one of my closest retainers, but also my brother-in-law. . .therefore, you are also my nephew.”_

_What._

_Since when was Queen Aulea Cor’s sister? Since when was Cor the Immortal Noctis’s Uncle? What. WHAT._

_“Dragons are very protective over their treasures,” said Clarus. Prompto didn’t know how he said it with such a straight face. He didn’t know how anyone could talk about this with a straight face. He’s listening to it, and he wants to break down in hysterical tears.  “As are werewolves with their packs. Which you are now a part of.”_

_Prompto, belatedly, wondered if it were too late to pass out again._

* * *

 

 

 

The next morning, there was nothing on Prompto’s calendar except for answering messages from his group members and finishing up whatever homework he could. After he ate and showered, he settled down on his couch, put on a random channel on the TV, and opened King’s Knight. After the absolute shitshow that was yesterday, Prompto wanted to relax.

After two hours spent on King’s Knight, a sudden knock on his front door made him drop his phone. Prompto looked at Umbra and Pryna, but they were unbothered by the unexpected guest. Prompto took that as a sign that he was safe.

Prompto opened the door.

Cor, Gladio, and Nyx Ulric stood before him.

Prompto almost closed the door.

This was not the peace he asked for.

He cleared his throat. “Um . . . can I help you?”

 _Please don’t arrest me_ , Prompto thought, but he wasn’t sure what they’d arrest him _for._ He hadn’t entered Insomnia illegally, and he knew all of his papers were in order. Of course, he wasn’t supposed to be living on his own either, but that wouldn’t be a reason for arrest. If he were, it would probably be because he lied to the king about his age.

Prompto was _nervous_ , okay.  

Nyx’s smile brought him out of his reverie. “It’s protocol for any soulmate of those in the Citadel to have a security check for their apartment. It’s nothing too serious, don’t worry—but we are going to put up an alarm system.”

“Oh, um, okay.” Prompto opened the door wider and allowed them entry into his apartment. Pryna and Umbra watched them from the couch as the adults—gods, it’s so _weird_ to call them ‘adults’ when Prompto used to be one of said adults only two days ago—walked around his apartment.

Nyx hunkered down somewhere in the kitchen with some weird device. It had various wires and other such things that made Prompto miss Hammerhead fiercely.

Something touched his shoulder and— _and it’s like he’s thrown back into time; a winged daemon latched deep claws into his shoulder, and he just thinks, this is it, I’m going to die here, I’m not going to ever_ —a growl, deep and low, jolted Prompto out of his memory.

Pryna pinned him to the floor. Umbra’s barking. Which—what? How? Pryna had died and—Umbra barked again, a rough noise, and Prompto blinked. The ceiling—not the one in Hammerhead—cleared. He breathed in sync with Pryna.

“I’m okay, girl,” he murmured into her fur. She huffed in disbelief and he snorted. “Yeah, yeah, but if I say it enough, it’ll be true.”

After a few more minutes of petting her, Prompto calmed down enough to sit upright. Heat flushed over the bridge of his nose at the abrupt silence in his apartment, and the eyes trained at him. “Um . . .,” He picked at a loose thread on his shirt and worried the bottom of his lip. “Ha, ha, sorry about that. Uh—can you, like, not grab my shoulder?” And then, much, much quieter, he added, “Please?”

Cor crouched down to his height, but it didn’t make Prompto feel threatened or worse. “Of course, Prompto. I’m sorry for startling you like that.”

“You okay, kid?” asked Gladio.

Hysterical laughter bubbled in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down. “Yeah, I’m . . . I’m good.”

They all politely ignored the fact that Prompto never exactly said ‘I’m okay’.

 

* * *

 

A week after Prompto had been unceremoniously dropped into this parallel life, he delved back into his routine of going to school, going to work, and relaxing with Pryna and Umbra. He had a free moment, and decided to go to the park with Pryna. Umbra had disappeared to go . . . wherever it was that Messengers went, so Prompto wasn’t all that bothered at his disappearance.

As he walked the park with Pryna at his side, Prompto took photos of anything he found interesting. There was someone sitting on the grass a few feet away from him, and the outline they made against the fading sun, and when they turned to face him his breath caught in his throat. He would’ve dropped his camera were it not for the strap around his neck.

Pryna barked and jogged towards them, greeting them enthusiastically via her tongue.

Prompto stared, and Noctis stared back. He looked young – younger than when he died, at least; younger than when he had been trapped by that thrice-damned crystal – and, much like Iris did in that grocery store, his nostrils flared. _That’s right_ , Prompto remembered as he watched Noctis’s eyes darken to a mix of gold and blue. _Lucis Caelum’s are . . . dragons._

“Uh,” Prompto started. “Hi.”

He wanted to smack himself. _Hi?_ Was that really all he could say?

Noctis didn’t speak, only breathed; he looked as though he struggled to hide a wave of overwhelming emotions. Prompto tilted his head. He _knew_ Noctis; arguably, Prompto might’ve known Noctis better than Gladio and Ignis solely because there were parts of the Prince that he never showed them but bared to Prompto because Prompto wasn’t around him because of _duty_ , Prompto was by his side because _he wanted to be_.

“Hi,” Noctis whispered. “You’re . . . Prompto, right?”

Prompto swallowed around a ball in his throat and nodded.

(Noctis looked at Prompto as if he were the most precious being he had the fortune of knowing. He looked at Prompto as if he knew what it was like to lose him, what it was like to watch the life bleed out of Prompto and be unable to do anything.

Noctis looked at Prompto as if—)

Sorry,” Prompto started, and cleared his throat. “Have we, um, met before?”

“No,” Noctis said, a beat too late, and shook his head. His eyes were clouded over with emotion, undecipherable to others. But Prompto knew Noctis better than he knew himself sometimes. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t think we have.”

Huh.

Prompto blinked and fought a smile.

How interesting.

(noctis always was a horrible liar, after all)

“Hey, Noct?”

Noctis swallowed. “Y-Yeah?”

Prompto smiled; a mix of grief and love and all sorts of emotions he couldn’t be bothered to name, and said, quietly, “You walked tall, you know?”

Noctis’s expression crumbled. He reached for Prompto’s hand.

“You did as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> cherry coke caused this. i wrote it in two hours. i shouldn't be allowed to drink it anymore akjfgkjfgs.
> 
> someone pry parallel uni fics out of my hands. it’s taken over my life.
> 
> I probably will continue since I kinda left it on a cliffhanger lol but lemme know you thoughts!


End file.
